


Don't Look Away

by maraudersaffair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Community: hp_drizzle, Dirty Talk, Getting Together, HP Drizzle Fest 2019, Hand Jobs, Hot Weather, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension, Stakeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20236492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersaffair/pseuds/maraudersaffair
Summary: Harry and Draco are Auror partners on a stake out, but there's a heatwave. It's hot, sticky, and Harry keeps taking off his shirt.





	Don't Look Away

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods for hosting this! Also, thank you to the prompter!

Draco had many regrets, but currently his biggest one was agreeing to be Potter’s Auror partner. 

He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. It wasn’t _easy_ being around Potter. 

For one, Potter hated wearing his shirt. He hated wearing his robes and vest; but he _especially_ hated the shirt. 

“Can’t you just cast a cooling charm?” Draco said. 

Potter lifted a bare shoulder. “If it bothers you, _don’t look_.”

_Easier said than done_, Draco thought. His gaze roamed over a brown, _glistening_ chest before he remembered not to look.

Potter laughed and shook his head. He muttered another surveillance charm, his eyes suddenly glowing orange. “The bugger hasn’t been back in ages.”

Draco shifted in his seat. They were hiding in what looked like a Muggle car, but there was only a bench on the inside. The space was cramped and _damp_. Draco took a deep breath, and he swore he could _smell_ Potter. It wasn’t a bad smell, just intimate, too intimate.

They were somewhere in Muggle London; somewhere forgotten in the twists and turns of the city. The Muggles were noisy and rude and stupid. Draco liked watching them through the car window. He liked watching when they couldn’t see him. 

“Where do you think Bardsley is?” Potter muttered. He liked to mutter a lot to himself, and it took Draco a moment to realize Potter expected an answer. 

“He’s probably at the pool, swimming around with the dirty Muggles.”

“They aren’t dirty.”

“Some of them are.”

“But not all.” Potter scratched his chin. There was sweat on his forehead. “I think Bardsley knows we’re here. I think he’s avoiding coming home.”

“How could he possibly know?”

Potter shrugged. “The bloke isn’t stupid. Nicking all that jewelry took skill…intuition.” 

“You are always giving them too much credit. They're bloody criminals, that’s it.”

“And you are always underestimating them.” Potter nudged him with a shoulder.

The day was hot, too hot. They were in the middle of another heat wave, and even magical folk were taking notice. A few wizards had staggered into St Mungo’s after overdoing it with the cooling charms, according to the _Prophet_. It turned out you could freeze an ear off. 

The sun was playing games. It had a grudge. There were no clouds, no humidity (thank Merlin), but everything was baking. The streets glittered like snake scales. 

Draco didn’t fancy Potter. Not really. He just struggled with the proximity, with the _waiting_. They were stuck in this stupid car together, and he wanted to lick Potter’s neck. 

“I think I see something,” Potter murmured, his orange eyes narrowing. 

“Are you sure it’s not just a mirage?”

“Shut up.”

They stared through the hot glass. The house under surveillance was posh with a terrace and big windows. A man in a heavy cloak hovered near the entrance steps. 

“I’ve never seen him before,” Draco said, flipping through their case file. “Does our Bardsley bloke have an accomplice?” 

“Could be a disguise,” Potter said. 

The man in a heavy cloak paced a few times, then disappeared down the street. 

“He will come back,” Draco said.

Potter nodded. “That wasn’t a ‘I wonder who lives here?’ stroll. We just have to wait him out.”

“Did you see his cloak? In this weather?”

“Very suspicious,” Potter muttered. 

They waited and waited, but he never came back. Bardsley also didn’t emerge from his house or return from wherever the hell he was. 

“I’m hungry,” Draco said, and he touched his pink nose. It was probably a sunburn. “I want chips and gravy.”

“We can’t leave yet. It’s too early.” Potter checked his watch. “In a few hours, you can grab dinner while I wait here.”

“_A few hours_?”

Potter shrugged. “You’re just bored. Admit it.”

Draco crossed his arms. “I’m a professional. I never get bored.”

Potter cocked an eyebrow. The sun was lowering in the sky, making everything glow softly, and he looked delicious. No, not delicious. Draco _was not_ attracted to him.

“Will you put on your shirt for once?” Draco said.

“Why?” Potter was now smiling. 

“Because it’s making me lose my appetite.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

Draco grabbed Potter’s wand, which a wizard should never do, but he didn’t care. He cast a cooling charm, then another, the wand pointed right at Potter’s face. 

Potter squawked and lunged for him. They wrestled on the bench, and Potter was hot and sweaty and _strong_. Draco wanted to surrender to him. He wanted to just melt in his arms and see what Potter would do. 

“Give me back my wand!”

“No!” Draco huffed a laugh.

They slid to the floor, Potter on top of him. Potter pinned his wrists down. They stared at one another. 

“This is very professional,” Draco said. 

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“You’re _squishing_ me. Of course I’m uncomfortable.”

Potter stared some more at him. He moved his hips.

“Get off me!” Draco gasped.

Potter grabbed his wand and sat back on the bench. Draco stayed on the floor for a moment and waited for his prick to stop being so pathetic. 

“Twenty blokes could have smuggled jewels into the house while we were on the floor!” Draco said as he joined Potter on the bench.

“I know.”

“We are not very good Aurors.”

“I had a lapse of judgment.”

Potter was putting his shirt back on.

“Don’t.” Draco stared out the window. 

Potter dropped his shirt. He renewed his surveillance charm and watched the house in silence. The sun disappeared from the sky. 

Draco took off his own shirt. His face was burning, but he refused to look at Potter.

There was a long silence; then, slowly, Potter placed his hand on Draco’s chest. They continued to watch the house.

“I like it,” Draco said finally.

Potter cancelled his charm, and the car suddenly seemed too dark without its orange glow. “What do you mean?”

“I think you fancy me.”

Potter dropped his hand.

Draco licked his lips. His heart was pounding, but he didn’t let himself show it. “I think you _want_ me.”

“What gave you that idea?” Potter muttered. 

“You were on top of me.”

“I just wanted my wand back.”

“You could have just asked nicely.”

Potter touched Draco’s thigh. “You had a stiffy. I felt it.”

“That had nothing to do with you. I’m attracted to men, and one was on top of me.”

“Nothing?” Potter put his hand on Draco’s crotch. It was warm, so warm, and it made Draco thrust a little. Potter got close and whispered in his ear, “I want you in my mouth.”

“What?” Draco’s eyes fluttered. It was difficult to breathe.

“Why do you think I was taking off my shirt?”

“But . . . what about Bardsley?” 

“Draco,” Potter said. 

“Oh, Merlin.” Draco turned his head and kissed him. The kiss turned bruising, and Potter rubbed Draco’s prick through his trousers. 

“Come on,” Potter said, and he tugged on Draco’s zip. “Let me suck you off. I’ll be quick.”

“We have to watch for Bardsley!”

“You watch while I work.”

“Oh, _fuck_.” 

Draco helped push his trousers and pants to his knees. Potter dragged his tongue up his shaft, and Draco stared determinedly out the window. He couldn’t look down. He’d come too quickly. 

Potter moaned. “You taste so good.”

Draco buried his hand in his wild hair. “You fucking _slag_.”

“Wanted you since training.”

“That was two years ago!”

“Yeah, you _idiot_.”

“I didn’t even know you were bent then!”

Potter moaned and took him into his mouth. Draco squeezed his eyes closed, his hand twisting Potter’s hair, needing an anchor. It was too good. _Potter_ was giving him head. He was sucking a Malfoy’s prick.

“Oh God,” Draco said.

Potter bobbed slowly, his mouth so damn wet and warm. He was good at this, very good, and Draco wondered who else he’d sucked off. 

“Are you still watching?” Potter said, voice rough, lips dripping.

“God.” Draco forced his eyes open. He stared at the house, everything too bright. Potter sucked on his bollocks, and Draco wanted to see. He wanted to look down and see Potter’s mouth stuffed. 

“You taste so good,” Potter moaned, and he was now nibbling on Draco’s head, tonguing the flushed crown. 

Draco threaded his fingers in his hair, eyes still focused on the house. “Take me down,” he said, pushing. “Take me all the way down.” 

Potter sucked him into his mouth. He bobbed quickly, going deeper and deeper, until Draco brushed the back of his throat. 

Draco thrust uncontrollably. Potter coughed, then sucked in air through his nose. He took Draco deeper, and Draco was in his throat.

“Oh.” Draco’s eyes rolled back.

Then Potter was bobbing again, too fast. He played with Draco’s bollocks, his fingers gentle and warm, and Draco’s orgasm overwhelmed him. He cried out, yanking Potter’s hair, his thighs trembling. 

Draco slumped back. He could barely keep his eyes open. Potter let his cock go with a pop. He cleared his throat and laughed hoarsely. 

“I’ve been your partner for two bloody years,” Draco gasped.

“Yeah.”

“Two stupid long years, and you are now just giving me brilliant head?”

Potter shrugged. “I thought you hated me.”

“You are so _ridiculous_.” Draco reached over and found him hard as a rock. He pulled down Potter’s pants and trousers. “God, your cock.”

“Yeah?”

Draco wanted it in his mouth. He wanted it so deep inside him, but he didn’t want the first time to be in this stupid car. 

Draco wrapped his hand around Potter. He murmured a lube spell, getting Potter so wet. He jerked Potter off quickly, and Potter’s mouth fell open.

“Fuck.”

“I want you to take me to dinner,” Draco said.

“Fuck.”

“Then I want you to take me home and fuck me in your bed.” Draco swiped his thumb over Potter’s dripping head.

“Yeah,” Potter moaned.

“I want you to fuck my tight little arse.”

“Oh, _fuck_.”

“Will you do that? Will you make love to me?”

“Draco,” Potter moaned, spilling over Draco’s hand. 

Draco kissed his face as he cleaned them up with his wand. Potter, still breathing hard, smiled at him. 

“You really want to date me?” Potter said.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Watch for Bardsley. He and that cloaked bloke probably nicked from the whole neighborhood while we were messing about.”

“Totally worth it.” Potter kissed him on the lips.

“Next Saturday,” Draco murmured, not drawing back.

“For the date?”

“Yeah.” Draco deepened the kiss.

The car was finally cooling off, and the night washed over them. Perhaps the heat wave was finally breaking.

**Author's Note:**

> This story/art is part of an anonymous fest: drizzle 2019. Reveals will be in mid-october. Please do not repost anywhere else without explicit permission from the original creator.


End file.
